


Named For A Saint Who Destroyed A House With Popcorn

by Pink_and_Velvet



Category: Real Genius (1985), The Saint (1997)
Genre: Business Partners, Crossover, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Love Story, Mistaken Identity, Past Relationships, Physics, Shenanigans, inventions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-27 23:16:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20054152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pink_and_Velvet/pseuds/Pink_and_Velvet
Summary: Emma’s Saintly Senses cannot be defined to anyone like physics equations can be. The Saint’s are all connected but sometimes not even Emma can understand the chemistry.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thecarlysutra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecarlysutra/gifts).

> For Carly who deserves so much and as my most likely only reader for this. But that’s okay. It’s a strange thing that I somehow made work.

**The University Of Oxford: 1999**

It had been a slow start for the EJ Russel Foundation. Her partner’s in Russia were beginning to make progress, having found the way to harness the Cold Fusion power. Making it safe was the issue. Ensuring it stayed safe was Emma’s concern.

She was back in Oxford, for one of her yearly lectures on Fusion and the Fusion theory. In the midst of her lecture about the positively charged deuterons and palladium cathodes her eyes fell back to a dashing man at the back. He was blonde, hair slicked back and combed neatly. His eyes were hazel, they hadn’t left her lean form throughout her entire speech. She stuttered a little and he had smiled. God, he had a beautiful smile. Emma turned away, a faint blush spread across her cheeks.

She answered more and more of the student’s questions and a thrill ran through her. She’d noticed over the last couple of years, since the Moscow fireworks, that there really was an interest coming from the next generation. They really wanted to be able to drive a car on a gallon of water, they really wanted her to succeed as a scientist. As a person.

Emma brushed some lint of the hem of her dress, it was of a modest cut and was figure hugging but her confidence was growing and she wanted another, and her eyes fell back to the handsome blonde man. He was making notes this time, he laughed at something he had written and Emma smiled. 

* * *

The lecture was over. She gathered her things, piled her papers and books in her hand, her purse draped across her shoulder when she stumbled. The papers flew about everywhere. She fell to her knees, in a desperate scramble to pick up her files, and was met by a rich and silken voice.

“Miss Russel; I thoroughly enjoyed your speech today. Although I must say, it was incredibly _hard_ to keep my focus on only your words.”

It was the blonde man who had been grinning at her all morning. He knelt beside her, wad of her papers in hand. Their fingers brushed as she struggled to grasp all that he was holding. She giggled.

“Thank you, Mr um…”

“_Knight_.”

“Thank you Mr Knight. Might I ask why, you couldn’t focus on my speech?”

Mr Knight’s eyes roamed all over her figure. He’d answered her question. Emma’s chocolate brown eyes widened, then dropped to the floor. She giggled again, raising her hand to hide her smile.

“Why do you cover your mouth when you laugh?”

She looked to him, a grin spread across his face. She shrugged.

“Well you shouldn’t hide something so beautiful, Miss-“

“_Emma_.”

“Emma?” He questioned, he nodded. “Emma.” 

* * *

**Emma’s Apartment: High Street, Oxford**

“Knight, Knight.” Emma paced about her apartment.

She opened the drawer and dived in for a post-it note, scribbled ‘Knight’ on it, and stuck it to her fish tank. Next to the reminder post it that read “feed the fish.” She fed her fish.

“Knight..who would have the name _Knight_?”

Emma sat down on her sofa, she closed her eyes. She ran through a mental checklist of all The Saint’s names she had encountered over the past two years. ‘Knight’ has never been one of them. She sighed and tried to clear her head.

The attempt was futile, she was met with equations that whizzed about her head, causing her to open her eyes and take a deep breath. Then she was reminded. She opened her laptop to find all the new emails from her Russian Counterparts. They had made some new developments and demanded that she was there for when they unveiled them to the Russian Government, within the next couple of months. She couldn’t be more honoured.

Emma sighed and got up. She had a date tonight with… A Saint. She wasn’t sure who. Emma had gotten good at guessing who would be picking her up at night. She’d tried with such might to establish a pattern but, to her disappointment, she just couldn’t work out the order.

She ran a deft hand through her hair, removed her clips and let her fringe fall. Her blonde locks framed her face beautifully. With a swift tug, she pulled herself free of her bun and her hair cascaded down. It was just passing shoulder length now. Having her hair flow freely was favoured by many Saints, mostly Martin De Porres and August Christopher.

She shuffled to her bedroom, over to her cupboards and ruffled through. A pristine white cardigan topped a light grey pencil cut skirt and blouse. Emma swapped her Mary Janes for some black heels, another gift from Martin. She wasn’t that great at walking in them but, whichever Saint greeted her tonight, would always help her not to stumble and fall. 

* * *

Tonight, she was graced by the alluring and ever so mysterious presence of Thomas Moore. Her favourite of all the Saints. They had reached the two year mark since that fateful night at the restaurant. Thomas has never lost his magic touch when it came to dazzling her, making her smile and giggle and she turned away, blushing.

Emma could never forget where he kept his hundreds of pounds. She’d laugh every-time another waiter was a little disgusted.

Thomas had flushed with the wine. The two of them were into their second bottle. She was rambling about her lecture and Thomas just listened, his eyes never leaving hers as they darted about her sockets. He took another sip.

Then, she mentioned of the man she had spoken too. Who had ever so kindly stopped to help her as she’d fumbled with her things. She paused. Thomas had turned away.

“Is everything okay?” Emma asked.

He took another sip and didn’t say a word. 

* * *

The night hadn’t gone as planned. She loved Thomas with all her heart. His poetry, his artwork, everything about him astounded her. But he didn’t come home with her.

Emma lay in bed. It had just passed midnight. She couldn’t sleep. She tried reciting her Fusion formulae over and over, adding and removing a different piece of the puzzle each time. The formulae didn’t help. She groaned and rose to her feet.

Emma paced about her apartment. She wracked her brain of her mental to-do list and settled for opening her laptop and sweeping through her inbox.

“Darlington” She muttered.

Of course. She hadn’t answered them back. Emma had been searching high and low for a new partner firm back home. Her foundation wanted to stretch itself to a new generation of young chemists and physicists, who saw the potential and wanted the same dreams that she did.

Emma had heard highly of this institution. She had been told that some of the best graduates America had to offer in the ever growing field, wanted to work there. Darlington wanted to be a partner.

Why not? She mused.

There was still some competition that she needed to approve of, before she knew the job had fallen into the right hands. She couldn’t bare to think what would happen if a bumbling idiot, or a genius for that matter, couldn’t handle it. Couldn’t handle her and her life’s work. It hurt but Emma knew, she’d be making the right choice. 

* * *

**Darlington Industries- South Carolina:**

Emma had taken the week to go and inspect her soon to be new partner. She’d inspected the labs, spoken to many professors and had come to an agreement. The EJ Russel Foundation would fund Darlington for the first three years, as her visit had confirmed to Emma of her hopes that they would advance the project. Emma wanted to keep the States up with the Russians as odd as it sounded however, there would always be that tie with the Russian advancement that she just couldn’t cut. She smiled to herself.

The tour around the institution was long and her feet ached. A PHD, whose name she had forgotten but didn’t have the heart to ask him to repeat himself, had left her in their canteen. The boss had so graciously cleared his schedule for her and would be picking up where he left off in the afternoon.

She threw her sandwich wrapper into the bin and started on her biscuit.

“Good choice.” Emma startled. “The chocolate chip ones will melt on your tongue, not completely fall apart on you like the double chocolate ones. Ugh, waste of time.”

A statuesque, lean figure decked out in a mid to high end suit had emerged at her side.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, Miss Russel.”

Her eyes widened. She recognised that voice. Slowly she turned, leant back so she could see him.

“Ah, Mr.. _Knight_, wasn’t it?”

“I’d hope so, that’s what it says on my underwear.” He laughed “or, did the government seriously complete their Top Secret Doppelgänger scheme and clone me without my knowledge?”

Emma laughed into her biscuit.

“I have the pleasure of escorting you round our humble abode, on a long, arduous tour of this establishment.” He seemed a little sarcastic there but Emma could tell, it was all in good humour.

“Why thank you Mr—“

“_Chris_.”

“Chris.” Emma nodded.

Chris? Her Saintly senses were tingling, as she had come to call them. Knight. Chris Knight.

“Whenever your ready, mi’lady.” He did a slight bow, a grin formed on his lips.

Emma laughed again and got too her feet. 

* * *

“I think I’ll really like working with you here um, Chris.”

An evening meal had been arranged. Emma sat opposite Chris, at the end of a long table full of men in suits and women decked out in pencil skirts and heels. The chatter was loud, lots of laughter erupted from the Darlington employees at the other end of the table.

A toast was raised to Emma and her newfound partnership, catered by Mr Knight himself. Emma blushed as she was hauled to her feet by Chris and a new man named Mitch she’d been introduced too about ten minutes earlier.

She’d come to recognise Chris’ quick wit, his dry humour that usually took her a moment to understand. They were both geniuses in their respected fields and they really had a lot in common, Emma thought, in terms of what they wanted for this partnership.

She was in a daze. A clap of a huge hand on her shoulder bought her out of it.

“More wine, ma’am?” Mitch asked, with a glint in his eye.

“Please, call me Emma. And oh no, I think I’ve had enough. It’s starting to get too me.” Emma giggled as her right hand rubbed her forehead. “I could really use some water.”

Chris leapt up, like a cat, and clutched a jug of water from the middle of the table. She held her glass as he poured her a drink. He took her hand in his, to steady her grip. Her lips parted and eyes widened at the sudden touch.

“Thank, ahem, thank you.”

Chris smiled that same beautiful smile. 

* * *

“Where about’s are you staying ma’am?” Mitch asked.

“Emma.” She laughed, “please, that is too much authority for me to handle.” Her giggle was a little nervous.

She heard Chris laugh at her left side.

“Ugh, authority.” He had a hand on his hip and rolled his eyes.

Mitch laughed although Emma wasn’t quite sure why.

“Your boss has so graciously put me up at the Hilton for the week.” She gestured wildly to Chris, the same stupid smile on his face.

“It’s the least I could do, your promising to fund my company with millions. Millions!” He feigned over excitement, Emma chuckled again.

“Are you always so, um, how do I say—“

“—Hyper? Over animated? Loveable and demented?” Mitch pitched in.

“Yes.” Chris beamed. “What good would it be if I was _adulting_ my way through life?”

Emma cocked her head to the side, Mitch was laughing at him again. There was something odd about this Chris, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Whatever it was, she liked it. She liked it a lot.

Chris was staring at her, intently. He held out a hand, like a true gentlemen, to escort her to her taxi. Her taxi, which was being crammed full of other Darlington employees. Chris coughed, a loud and over dramatic cough. He folded his arms and raised a brow. He pouted.

The taxi became free. Emma slid inside.

“Why thank you, Chris. They really do seem to respect you around here.”

“Respect?” He scoffed, “that’s not what I need from them. I need them to work, anything but to run this place to the ground. And so far, they’ve worked and I haven’t run this place to the ground. I call _that_ a success.” He looked about ready to applaud himself.

“Tomorrow, main foyer at 9, wasn’t it?”

“If the sun is up and I’m awake then yes, 9am.”

“If you’re—“

“—I’m kidding. How about I pick you up on my way, save you the taxi fare. Outside the Hilton, 08:30?”

“Perfect. Why thank you Chris.”

He bid farewell as Emma, a little light headed and flushed, ran his name through her head. Over and over. _Chris Knight. Chris Knight. Chris Knight._ She huffed out a sigh. There was still no inclination that it was Simon, _her_ Simon.

She didn’t want to fall into the trap of falling for the wrong man, the wrong Saint. She had come close before, thinking miraculously higher of Simon’s hair and make-up skills than she really ought too. She had been dazzled by his many personas over these last eighteen months or so and sure, Simon himself drifted in and out but this time, it was different. She didn’t know who she was dealing with and that scared her, a lot. 

* * *

**The Hilton:**

Emma stumbled her way into the parking lot. She ran a nervous hand through her hair and caught her clip; she cursed as she’d accidentally tugged it loose. She fumbled with the clip, hand running through her ruined hair, trying to smooth out the bumps when—

“Leave it. It looks lovely hanging down.”

Chris.

Emma checked her watch, he was early. She smiled and waved.

His car was huge, a slick navy BMW. Emma’s eyes widened.

“Your chariot awaits, mi’lady” Chris grinned, as opened the car door.

Emma clambered in, not as gracefully as she had hoped she would. 

* * *

**Darlington Industries: **

Mitch has insisted that they talked logistics over lunch only to be cut of by Chris who whispered something to him, Emma just stood there with a confused look on her face. A moment over and Mitch nodded, he let Chris discuss his plans over lunch. He insisted that Emma join him to ‘get real’ and Emma was clueless as to what that meant.

Emma was halfway into her salad when Chris found her alone in the canteen.

“A woman as beautiful as you should not be out here eating alone, how will they ever keep their hands off of you?” Chris joked and Emma chuckled.

He picked up her plate and ushered her away from her table. She followed him to his office.

It wasn’t as huge or as intimidating as Emma thought it would be but, then again, neither was the boss of the corporation. The walls were plastered with posters and papers, like her reminder notes at home. He had pictures of his college days everywhere, not a single family photo in sight. Emma scanned the room, at the clutter as she dropped down into a chair opposite Chris.

They spoke for hours. Literally. Chris just kept up the conversation. He asked of her childhood, of her love for work, how she relaxed, her hobbies, her loves and her desires and Emma, just talked. And talked.

Chris rambled here and there, telling her of his college days. She had previously pictured him at his upmost professional, constantly studying, eyes on the prize and came to find out… she couldn’t have been more wrong.

Chris was an eccentric, she decided. But so was she. He liked to party and be the centre of attention, she didn’t so much but that was okay. Chris didn’t shy away from giving her a turn in the spotlight.

Emma didn’t think she’d ever laughed so much as Chris told her of the infamous popcorn incident. How a single six megawatt laser, popped millions of popcorn kernels and, some crazy how a genius such as herself was still trying to put it all together, literally destroyed a house. Broke away at its foundations.

She laughed so hard she’d given herself the hiccups. That was embarrassing. But Chris didn’t seem to mind, he just kept smiling and smiling. He gestured wildly, over emphasised and Emma decided that he did fight with himself every now and then to not dance around the room.

This man couldn’t be just any other Saint.

He was wild, maybe even of a different species. He just seemed to attract everyone to him. Like a magnetic pull, Emma was hooked. She stared into his eyes, after her hiccups died down then, remarkably, Chris stopped.

His eyes were dark, they’d widened and his lips had parted.

Emma had leant in, without a thought in her head. Her lips brushed Chris’ sweet and slow. She felt him stiffen but relax into the contours of her lips in an instant. The kiss deepened as he prodded at her with his tongue. She parted her lips and bought her hands to rest at the back of his head, fingers locked in a loose embrace.

The gears began turning in her head again and she broke away, with haste. She was embarrassed, a blush high up on her cheeks and she was panting. Her eyes darted about the room. Her hand was awkwardly rubbing at her lips.

“I’m, I’m..”

She rose from her seat and dashed out of the room. Emma ignored Chris’ cries for her to come back and talk to him. He didn’t follow her and she wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disheartened that she kept on running.

She stumbled into Mitch in the hallway.

“Let me guess, he told you of the penis-stretcher he made back in ’85. Apparently it worked.” He said, tone light.

“Uh huh, that’s right.” Emma tried to comprehend his words, “I’m sorry but I have to go.”

Mitch waved and she carried on. She didn’t look back. 


	2. Chapter 2

**The Hilton:**

Emma had been pacing and pacing all evening. She hadn’t eaten, she couldn’t bring herself to do so. She ran a shaky hand through her hair and clutched at her chest.

Her breathing was irrational, pants coming faster than they should’ve been. She dashed to the bathroom and clutched her pill bottle. She dry swallowed two and tried to relax.

There was a knock at her door. Panic stirred across her chest. Emma turned to the mirror and saw herself, mussed and disheveled, and sighed.

She ran to the door as her hands tried to smooth down her hair and her clothes, which proved futile.

Emma took a deep breath and opened up.

“Chris, I—“

He took two steps forward and grabbed her, pulled Emma towards him and crushed their lips together. She squirmed a little then relaxed into him, her back arching perfectly up against his strong chest.

Chris manoeuvred them away from the door, kicking at it with his heel. They both stumbled to the unmade bed in the middle of the hotel room, knocking over a lamp on the way.

“_Shit_” Chris breathed, “I’ll pay for it.” His mouth claimed hers again.

His huge hands fanned about her waist, he picked her up and in one smooth move, she was thrown upon her bed. She laughed, as Chris crept up to meet her, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Mr Knight, what are you going to _do_ with me?” Where had that come from?

He grinned and mulled it over.

“I’m not sure, either I can make love to you right here and now or, we can order in room service then make love. I bet you haven’t eaten.” He stated, as a finger caressed his chin and he raised an eyebrow.

Emma laughed again. “Dinner after.”

“Dinner _during_.”

Emma’s eyes widened and she giggled, raising a hand to her face. Chris’ tone suggested enough that she was excited, ready, for her new Saint to dazzle her. To love her right then and there. 

* * *

Chris went uncharacteristically slow, his dexterous fingers lit sparks across her body. She curved herself upward to meet his touches, she shivered at the touch of his lips. His hands wandered lower, traced up the insides of her thighs and found her moaning and sighing her way through. A finger found her entrance and she keened. 

* * *

Emma awoke peacefully the following morning. She rolled over and heard a little ‘ugh’ sound. Her eyes widened at the realisation as to who she was lying with. Who she had just accidentally whacked in the head.

“That’s an interesting way to be awoken, Miss Russel.”

She giggled and leant over to kiss him. “I’m so sorry, Simon.”

Oh shit.

“Chris. I’m so sorry, _Chris_.”

His eyes widened comically, he sat upright. He ran a hand through his hair and looked back down to her. Emma had risen up on one hand, eyebrows narrowed and was biting her lip.

“_Simon_?” Chris re-iterated in an assertive tone that Emma hadn’t heard before.

She watched him clamber out of the bed, muttering to himself as he followed the trail of his abandoned clothing.

“Chris, I—“

He slammed the door behind him.

Emma just laid there. She was frozen with tears in her eyes. She was wrong. That wasn’t Simon. There was no way Chris could’ve been her Simon. She had been lured in by his charm and quick wit. His fast hands and constant rambling made her feel so good and so sure of himself.

She let her tears fall. 

* * *

**Darlington Industries:**  
  
It had been a couple of days since her last encounter with Mr Knight. Emma had deftly avoided him and his office since.. that night.

Emma didn’t have a clue what to say to him, whether or not she should approach him. She wanted to apologise, say she was sorry again and again. But how could she explain herself.

_Chris I’m devastated that I thought you were my lover, who dresses like other men to steal millions worth of who knows what and is currently on the run without a home, or anything to his name. I’m sorry I thought you were my lover who doesn’t even have a last name. I’m sorry that I’m not on the run with him, too._

Nothing seemed to cut it. He’d surely laugh in her face, or throw some things. She didn’t want to lie but how could she even fathom the truth.

Chris had been building drones since ’85. Simon had been stealing since he was a boy and now had millions because of all his shady deals and successful escape attempts. She didn’t know who she could trust with any of this.

Emma hadn’t even seen the real Simon in months. He couldn’t be with her and they both knew it, not him. Not the real Simon.

She was shaken from her thoughts when she again stumbled into Mitch. He didn’t complain but he did look genuinely concerned.

“Emma.. what’s wrong.”

She was close to tears again. It had been days and she hadn’t told a soul. She took Mitch’s hand and they rounded the corner to an abandoned storage cupboard. She pulled him inside.

Emma laid out everything about Chris. How she had flung herself at him and was too shaken so she had ran. How Chris had shown up to her room and kissed her. How Chris had loved her and comforted her. How Chris had worshipped her in his arms.

Mitch just listened but his ears pricked at the name ‘Simon.’

“Simon.. Emma if there is someone else..”

“That’s the pro- problem. I don’t, I, _I don’t know_ if the- there is someone else.” She shook with tears and fell to the floor with a thud.

“I’m sorry but I really don’t understand.”

She breathed a sigh of relief and looked up to Mitch, who looked puzzled.

“You need to decide who you want. If there is someone else at least tell Chris about it. He might go a little nuts, throw some things but.. you owe it to him that he knows the truth.”

“But he, he _can’t_ know.” She yelled, her tears flowing again. Then quieter, “_I don’t_ even know.”

Mitch helped her to her feet. She hugged him tight.

“I don’t.. even know.” She repeated.

Emma broke away. She rubbed the tears from her face and made a poor attempt of getting a hold of herself.

Mitch had a hand on the doorknob and Emma took a deep breath.

“When you can tell him, say it was a _moral imperative_ that he knows.”

“A moral- what?” She asked, with a sniff.

“Trust me, he will laugh.” Mitch winked and left her there. 

* * *

Emma only had another two days until she was heading back to London. She wanted to at least try and clear the air with Chris. She didn’t want any future collaborations with Darlington to be effected by her own, personal idiocy. Chris didn’t deserve it.

Her hand hovered at his office door, she retreated. She tried again and cursed, hands by her sides as she composed herself. She raised her hand again as she heard a voice.

“Miss Russel.” Emma jumped.

“Chris.. can I, can I speak to you for a moment?” She asked, looking at her feet.

He brushed past her and opened the door, she followed him in. He took a seat but didn’t invite her to sit so she just stood before his desk.

He flicked his wrist in a ‘come on, get on with it’ motion and forced a scowl. She fidgeted with her skirt.

She sputtered and Chris rose to his feet.

“Emma.. I’m not sure I’m following this. You thought I was, whom?”

Emma sputtered some more. Chris cut her off.

“That’s funny. I always _did_ suspect I had been cloned in my sleep. I guess, that confirms it. I should hire some guards to protect me in my chamber.”

She smiled a small smile at his words. Maybe, she thought, he would believe that. She still wouldn’t be leading him on with such a blasphemous story.

“Perhaps that may happen, Chris, but that’s not what I meant.”

He leaned in and in a sudden bold move he was mere inches from her face.

“I.. I decided that I.. oh the hell with it. I have to tell you something important. _It’s a moral imperative_.” Her voice deepened some, to mimic the way Mitch’s had.

He smirked and Emma figured that Chris couldn’t help himself. She flinched as he raised an arm but relaxed into it as he wrapped himself around her.

Emma rested her head on his shoulder.

“Who is he?”

“I have no idea.”

“Emma.” He shifted so they were face to head, foreheads brushing.

“_He’s not you_. I don’t know where he is, when he will be back but, I know now: _You’re not him_. I’m so terribly sorry that I thought as much. You didn’t deserve any—“ She was cut off rambling.

Chris had leant down and pressed a tender kiss to her temple. Emma let out a pleased sigh and dropped her clutch on Chris’ back. She took a step away from him, smiling.

“If he doesn’t come back to you, he doesn’t understand what he’s missing.” Chris winked.

“He surely doesn’t.” Emma let herself smile a rueful smile. “I’ll see you around?”

“Keep your eye on the news.” He raised his eyebrows a couple of times. They both laughed as Emma made her way to the door. “Seriously keep an eye out, the guys at the lab just approved my long list of future shenanigans.”

She turned on her heel and didn’t look back. 

* * *

Emma was walking back to the Hilton, clutching too many folders and trying desperately to not let the wind carry them away. She huffed out a pained sigh, as the wind did just that.

Her papers danced all around her as she clutched at a few. She fell to her knees to savour a folder from a puddle when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“You’re getting your skirt wet, are a few files really that important?” The tone was light and familiar, rich with silk. It sung of home and security.

Emma slowly rose to her feet, pivoted on one heel and froze.

Simon. _Her_ Simon.

Emma flung herself at him, she was swept up in his arms as she kissed him over and over. He was beaming, a huge smile plastered all over his handsome face. Simon carefully put her down and together, they chased the wayward papers and folders. 

* * *

**The Hilton:**

The sunlight powered through the curtains as Emma turned. She stirred, burying her face in her pillow. She smiled as she felt the weight of the bed dip. Slowly, she opened her eyes and they roamed the man at her side.

Her lips were lured over to Simon’s parted ones, her body was perfectly moulded into his. His arms wrapped at her sides.

“Emma, you _have_ to go.”

She panicked, sat up straight and fiddled with the bedsheets.

“Emma, you have a flight to catch.”

She scrambled to her feet, knowing Simon’s hungry eyes hadn’t left her naked form.

“When will I see you again?” Emma asked over her shoulder.

They both chuckled, oh the irony.

“I’ll find you. I’ll _always_ find you.”

Emma beamed and practically ran back to the bed. Her lips locked with Simon’s a final time before she disappeared into the bathroom.

When she came back out, Simon was gone.

She smiled to herself as she walked to her suitcases, that crowded the door. She scanned the hotel room a final time, for any remnants of Simon and clues for the next Saintly encounter.

Then she spotted it, atop a new lamp on the bedside table. The necklace glimmered in the light, the cross was encrusted with silver. Her hands traced the diamanté and opened the clasp. She hid the chain under her blouse.

Emma strolled back to her luggage pile, her hand found the doorknob and she left the Hilton and left Darlington behind.

Simon would find her, he always would. 

* * *

**Heathrow Airport:**

It hit Emma like a ton of bricks. She was perched in arrivals flicking through a magazine that she didn’t care for, awaiting her luggage on the carousel.

_Chris Knight. Simon’s stories of Catholic school. Christ Knight._

**Knight Templar.**


End file.
